Even sitting there chewing with his mouth partially open, Ian looked like a magazine model. Regan watched the way his lips moved as he chewed.

“Have you eaten,” he asked, one eyebrow raised in amusement, more than aware that she was sizing him up.

She shook her head quickly, no, coming back to reality. “I’m hungry,” she confessed and reached for one of the rice-filled cartons nervously.

“I was not sure what you would like. So, I chose a little of everything.”

They ate in silence for a while. Ian was actually starved and shoveled the food down. Neither one of the girls he had spent the night with bothered to fix breakfast. He felt like he was losing his touch.

Regan was picking at her food, not really eating. Ian wondered if he had upset her.
He leaned his head forward, as if to tell her a secret. “They’ve sent me here to baby-sit you,” he smirked. “I must admit though, you are not what I was expecting.”

“I know,” she assumed. “I’m black.”

He laughed fully now, the deep sound catching Regan by surprise. Those damn dimples and those eyes! She blushed at what was going through her mind. Then suddenly it hit. The man had seen her butt naked. In no way had he expected to get flashed. That’s why he was laughing.

“No, that was nothing.” He then leaned back in the chair, placing his hands behind his head. His eyes narrowed as he focused on her. He looked more serious now. Lines formed between his eyebrows. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” she supplied, finishing off an egg roll. “Well, in a month I’ll be nineteen.”

“Hmm.” He shook his head. “You’re going to have to beat the boys off with a bat,” he teased, knowing that should not include himself, but she appealed to the obvious boy part of him. That was not good.

The way he said it, made Regan raise her head and look at him. He was not flirting. He sounded awed by the prospect. She had his full attention once more and he was searching her face for something. She welcomed the opportunity to watch his, mainly focusing on his eyes which were as tempting as that pool of water had been to her earlier. He seemed to easily draw her in.

“You’re lovely,” he said, his voice as caressing as his eyes were earlier. “Even more so than your mother.” He moved in again to have a closer look. “The eye coloring came from Ray, definitely. But they are different from his. The rest is almost an exact replica of your mother--just more beautiful. I didn’t think that was possible. I’d recognize you anywhere.”

Regan’s heart had started pounding at the word lovely, but her body went rigid at the realization of what he was saying.

“How do you know what my mother looked like,” her voice was sharp even though she had not intended it to be.

Abruptly, his mood shifted. He stood and took his plate sink, rinsed it off and then placed it in the dishwasher. “Would you like some more.”

“No, I’m good. I mean,” she corrected herself, “no thank you.”

He returned to the table and began closing the containers of food. Regan waited, fighting back the desire to demand that he answer. He finally stood, leaning against the counter, arms crossed against his chest and legs crossed at the ankle. He had a way about him, poise without purposefully posing. Every move he made was casual in nature but so well controlled and timed. The way his body moved was almost a manipulation in itself. Regan waited, acknowledging his control.

“Rae kept two pictures of her in his wallet,” he said watching her closely. “One was a picture of her alone staring straight at the camera. The other was her and him together, laughing.”
Regan looked down at her hands. She had only one picture of her mother. The idea that there were more and that THEY had them, not her, made her angry.

“There are hardly any pictures of Rea laughing. So, that one always interested me.”

“Is that what you called him too…Rea?” she asked.

“Yeah. Troy and I called him Rea. When we first moved in here it felt awkward calling him
Reagan and not comfortable enough to call him dad.” Ian’s voice trailed off. “I was twelve.”

“He wasn’t your father?”

Ian shook his head. “No, not biologically that is. He was the closest I had ever had. He adopted me when I was sixteen.”

“You and not Troy?”

“Troy was already a man and pretty much on his own by then.”

Regan looked up at him and was surprised to see his eyes still fully focused on her, not bothered by her probing questions. He could keep staring as far as she was concerned; she had made up her mind then that he would find nothing. As far as this man Reagan, or Rea, was concerned, she felt nothing. The pictures of her mother was a point of interest that she filed away, sensing that he was expecting to elicit some sort of emotional reaction with it. Other than that, she chose to not react at all. There was stillness between them for a moment, but also an electric like current that hummed in the silence.

Smiling, Ian turned to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. He would show the pictures to her, but only when she was ready to ask for them. There was so much he had been waiting to show her. Things that he had taken great care to put aside just for her. There were things that she only deserved to see.

“Where is your mother?”

Completely caught off guard, Ian laughed, turning back to look at her. The girl was not shy now, was she? “She has a loft in town.”

She took her plate to the sink and rinsed it out, causing Ian to move over. “You live here and she doesn’t?” she questioned.

There was a hard edge to her voice that Ian decided to ignore. He figured that the hardness was a ploy because there was also fear in those grey dough eyes. The girl was feeling him out, maybe trying to determine where he stood. He wanted to tell her that there were no sides in this house. There was no way his mother could harm her. The battle had already been fought and his mother had lost and was restricted to her little corner of the world. No one was challenging the fact that she was Reagan‘s daughter or that she had a right to his estate. The will stood untouched by his mother‘s mauve-colored claws. Half of the house as well as everything else belonged to her. “No she has not lived here in a while,” he told her, resuming his position against the counter. “Rea and she were in the process of divorcing before the…accident.”

Following Ian’s lead she placed her plate in the dishwasher. When she bent down, Ian had a perfect view of the top of her breasts. Her skin was looked so soft and smooth--the color of milk chocolate with extra cream. Her breasts were amazing.

“Oh,” Regan said in answer to his reply, not quite sure how to react to that piece of information. She knew that the woman had hired a slew of lawyers to contest the will. She had wondered where Ian’s loyalties lay. It obviously was not with his mother.

“Does my living here bother you?” Ian suddenly asked her.

Regan turned slightly, so that they were now facing one another. Being so close to him made her heart begin to pound and her breathing was shallow and quick.

“No,” she answered too quickly. “I mean it’s more of a home to you than it is to me.”

“But it is your home Regan.”

Her name sounded different falling off his lips, his very kissable lips. It made her lose her train of thought.

“You know he did not know about you for all those years. He would have wanted you here with him if he had known,” his voice was soft, almost like a caress.
For a moment their eyes held each other. Ian’s deep blue swirled with sudden unexplainable emotion. The gray stone of Regan’s softening under his spell.

“You,” Ian finally said, looking away and clearing his throat, “better get dressed. Audra is taking you shopping and my sister in law does not feel that the two of you should be left alone. So, I’m chaperoning.”

Regan shook her head. The embarrassments just did not end. “You heard about last night,” she asked, pulling her hands to her face.

“Oh yes,” he teased. “I missed quit a lot last night. I’m sorry. Allysia says that you are quick on the draw.”

“It was a really long day,” she admitted. “I ’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he told her. “She most likely deserved it knowing my sister.” As she looked into the azure of his eyes, she believed him.

Ian watched her walk up the stairs to her room. Mostly he watched her ass. He pulled her cute little powder blue panties out of the pocket of his dark jeans and smiled devilishly. The soft cotton felt almost silky between his fingers. He was glad that he had let Audra talk him into living at the house instead of keeping his own place. Especially now that Regan was here, where she belonged. He wished Rea would have hung on long enough to see it. But then, that was Ian’s fault.

Wasn’t it?